What Remains
by magicalriot
Summary: All her usual words – victim, bones, body, remains – seem empty and fragile, as though they would shatter under close examination. Car accidents, kidnappings, taunting terrorists - this time, she's right; everything changes.
1. Beginnings

Her eyes float over the bones lying on the table, snatching onto every detail and filing away for later reference. She observes many, many old injuries. Broken ribs, an old fracture of the clavicle, not so old head trauma, evidence of gunshot wounds... and serious remodelling of the bones in the feet.

Suddenly she can't breathe. Her phone is in her hand, again, and she's calling him, again, even though she knows now. Two days is a long time for them, but she brushed it off. He was mad at her. He was ignoring her, and she was being stubborn. The both lied. But bones don't. They tell the truth, regardless of what you want to hear.

She never, ever wanted to hear this. She wonders if she'll ever listen to a bone speak (metaphorically, of course) again.

She looks up, about to call Hodgins over in a decidedly wobbly voice. 'You need to come and look at the...'

The sentence stops. She doesn't know what to say. All her usual words – victim, bones, body, remains – seem empty and fragile, as though they would shatter under close examination. Especially _remains_.

What remains.

What remains, after _what_, exactly? After the brain stops firing neurons and thoughts cease? After the heart stops beating?

Or after something else leaves, as he was so fond of believing?

No, remains do not fit. These are not leftovers, nor are they the mere _body _of some _victim. _These bones, they have a name.

She traces the clavicle with trembling fingers, touching the thin bump where the bone broke.

_My refrigerator blew him up. _

Her hands cradle his arm bone gently, her thumb exploring the groove where a bullet tore through skin and muscle and, yes, bone, leaving him bleeding in her arms.

_He took a bullet for me. He died. For a while. _

She touches his ribs, his legs, his broken feet, until she can't ignore it any longer. She picks up the skull.

Smooth lines where surgical tools cut him open. A little healed crack, the result of one of many blows to the head ('You would think you'd have learnt to duck by now, Booth!').

_You don't remember me?_

And that is him. That is all that _remains. _He is gone, becoming nothing but a pile of bones on her clean table. Yet she feels that she is the one who is lost. Like her identity has been stolen from her, and all that is left of it is a few marks in these bones.

No. In _Booth._

She's not the woman who would let a man define her. But she let him. And now he's here, but not really, so she's not really sure who she is. She was his. Now she's not. The world just stopped making sense.

Maybe the world just stopped turning.

'Hodgins? You need to come and look at Booth.'


	2. In the Dreamtime

OK, I fully intended for that first little bit to be a one-shot. But then I got ideas bouncing around, and I am a sucker for a happy ending at heart (it's fanfiction. Where does it say that I have to be clever and write a bitter-sweet ending?) so we now have this – my first ever sort-of case fic. Of course, there will be fluff and romance and all things sweet... so let me know what you think, people. Keep going or can it? Oh, and please forgive me for being unbelievably corny and going with the dream thing. I promise I'm usually a good writer who refuses to give in to clichés... I promise!!! PS I own nothing.

'Hodgins... Booth... BOOTH!'

'Woah, woah, Dr. B, wake up!'

Brennan sat up, pulling at her sweaty clothes and gasping for air. Hodgins grabbed her hands. 'Hey, hey, calm down. You're alright.'

Brennan relaxed against the couch, breathing quickly. She closed her eyes and lent back. 'Damn it. Was I yelling again?'

Hodgins stood from where he was crouched before her, moving to sit on the couch beside his boss. 'Just a little bit. Don't worry, everyone else has gone home.' Brennan rolled her head slightly to the side and met Hodgins eyes. His sympathetic smile was almost more than she could bear.

'Ugh.' She closed her eyes again.

'Brennan...' He began cautiously.

'You can ask, Hodgins. This is the third time. I would be surprised if you didn't have questions.'

The bug and slime guy took a deep breath. It wasn't often that his boss invited questions into her personal life, especially not with him. Not since the whole Booth-vs-Gravedigger incident. Maybe that was why he hadn't told anyone about this. Maybe he needed to prove himself again.

The first time, they had both stayed overnight at the lab, Brennan working on her novel until she fell asleep and Hodgins doing some independent study that he needed the equipment for. He woke at 5am to her yelling, terrified. He had thought someone was attacking her, so it had been a bit of a shock to find his very embarrassed superior crying on the floor in her office. He had checked she was OK then left quickly.

The second time was about a month later, after a long and tiring case had left them all on knife-edge. Angela had just announced that she was now dating Wendall and Hodgins had found himself harbouring the desire to blow stuff up. He settled for savagely attacking paperwork late on a Sunday afternoon, with Brennan passed out, exhausted, on her couch. Booth was out of town and she always tended to spend more time at the lab when he was away. This time, he had been walking past her office door and heard the low, distraught moans as her dream began. He interrupted before she could alert the security guards, and that time he got her coffee and sat with her, just for a little while.

This time, however, he was favouring the more direct approach. 'What the hell are you dreaming about, Dr. B.?'

She stood, crossing to her desk and fetching the bottle of water waiting for her. After taking a long swig, she turned back to Hodgins.

'Booth,' she said abruptly. 'Dead.'

Hodgins eyebrows flew up.

'It only happens when I'm here. Maybe the scent of the lab environment triggers my subconscious. I dream that we have a new case, where DNA is impossible and dental records are unlikely, and I identify the ...' she stumbled over the word, this time out loud. 'I identify Booth.'

Brennan sat back on her desk, eyes locked on her hands as she twisted the cap to the drink bottle on and off.

Hodgins released a low whistle. 'Man, that sucks.'

A small smile cracked Brennan's face. 'Yes, I do believe that 'sucks' is an appropriate descriptor.'

He lent forward, elbows resting on his knees. 'Are you going to tell Booth? Or Sweets?'

She looked up at him in disbelief.

Hodgins nodded. 'Of course not. Don't worry; I won't tell either.'

'Thank you.' The silence of the nearly empty lab fell around them. Brennan shivered. Some dreams were harder than others to shrug off.

She stood and stretched. 'I should go.'

Hodgins rocked to his feet. 'No offence, Dr. Brennan, but you're as shaky as the case against Roswell. Do you really want to get behind the wheel?'

Brennan waved a hand dismissively, gathering up her bag and laptop. 'I'll be fine, Hodgins. I'm only going to Angela's; it's not that far.' He could see her walls going back up and he wondered if she regretted spilling her guts.

'OK. But only if you're sure.' She nodded, turning to leave almost instantly. 'Oh, and Dr. Brennan?' She paused. 'Thanks for sharing with me.'

She took a quick breath. 'Just – just don't tell anyone.' She exited the room quickly.

Hodgins ran a hand through his hair. Why was there no 'how to' book for disturbed bosses?

x

Three hours later, a man received a phone call.

'Agent Booth? This is Claudia from Washington General. We have a Ms. Temperance Brennan here. I'm afraid she's been in an accident.'

'Doctor. It's Dr. Brennan,' he corrected automatically, before her words began to sink in. 'Wait. _What_?'

_x_


	3. Crash and Burn

Booth raced through those doors as though all of hell was after him. And, in a way, it was. Because if she wasn't OK, if she didn't come through this, then there was a very distinct possibility that he was going to end somebody's life in a way that would allow no possible absolution.

He flashed his badge at the frightened receptionist. "Temperance Brennan. Where?" He demanded shortly, a muscle twitching in his jaw. The young woman cleared her throat nervously. Booth lent over further.

"Sh-she's in Medical. Down the hall, f-first left. Room 208."

Booth took off, not bothering to flash the appreciative smile that he so often used to his advantage. He flew through the doors to the Medical ward, resembling some sort of avenging angel with his jaw set, tie loose and top button undone and jacket flapping as he jogged into the room marked 208.

His partner lay still on the bed. Apart from the steady beeping of the heart monitor beside her bed, the room was silent.

Her head was wrapped in gauze, her arm pulled across her body in a sling and a series of impressive bruises were visible on her neck and what he could see of her chest. Her face was covered in scratches and one longer, deeper cut across her cheekbone that had been stitched.

And she was alive.

Booth released a shaky breath and travelled to her side, gently taking her head between his hands and pressing a kiss to her forehead. She moved slightly beneath him and he lent back, not releasing her head. 'Hey, Bones.'

She sighed, eyes fluttering open. 'Booth.'

He grinned in relief. 'Car crash, huh?'

She winced. 'My injuries are consistent with a car crash, but I have no memory of the accident itself.' She frowned. 'I have no memory of even getting in the car.'

Booth's forehead corrugated in sympathy, releasing her face to take her good hand between his. 'That's OK, Bones. You look like you took a bit of a hit to the head.'

She frowned again. 'Yes. I suppose so.' She sighed. 'I hate not remembering!'

He chuckled slightly, holding her hand in a way that allowed him to feel her slightly elevated pulse. 'Now you know how I felt.'

She rolled her eyes and shook her head, then gasped. 'Oh, ouch!'

Booth jumped to attention. 'What is it, Bones?'

She groaned. 'I fractured my clavicle.'

'Collarbone, right?'

'Mmm.'

'What else is broken?' He asked. 'You have talked to the doctor, right?'

'Yes, although I've only been awake for about twenty minutes. I have three cracked ribs and a severe concussion.'

He nodded, falling into the seat by her bed without letting go of her. 'Where did it happen?'

Brennan frowned. 'I don't know. The police wouldn't talk to me until you arrived. Apparently they know you, and said that if they harassed me, you would have them demoted to janitors.'

Booth laughed. 'Sounds about right. Why don't I go find these guys, while you have a rest?'

She nodded, and Booth stood to leave. Her eyes drifted shut, and Booth couldn't resist kissing her forehead one more time before exiting the room.

X

When Brennan woke up for the second time, the room was considerably fuller.

Sweets and Hodgins were locked in a quiet yet intense argument in the seats by the window. A nurse was hovering by her bedside, checking the equipment and, Brennan thought, checking out Booth, who was engaged in two conversations: one with the police officer she had met before, and the other with his cell phone.

'I just don't understand how - .'

'That is totally not true, the CIA – .'

'Traffic camera images are being - .'

Brennan suddenly wished she could go back to sleep, when Booth looked up and caught her eye. He hung up his phone unceremoniously and turned his back on the agitated cop, coming instantly to her side. 'OK, Bones?'

She nodded. 'What's going on?' For some reason, her eyes kept drifting to Hodgins, who was now looking at her.

Booth sighed. 'Traffic camera footage shows that you were purposefully rammed. Car had no plates, but we've got a make and model. It must be revenge for some case or another. Antonio did threaten you last week. I've got someone looking into it. Until we know what's going on, you don't leave my sight.'

Brennan nodded again, too tired and preoccupied with the thoughts she couldn't quite reach to protest, before allowing her eyes to drift over the rest of the room. She remembered the 'Madeline' story books she used to read as a child, where the matron of the orphanage would sense if there was something wrong with her girls. Despite her distrust of emotions and feelings that could not be quantified with science, she suddenly had a greater understanding of Miss Clavel.

_Something is not right. Something is quite wrong._

'... stay at my house, OK, Bones? Bones?'

Brennan snapped her gaze back to Booth. 'Where's Angela?' she asked abruptly.

Hodgins answered. 'At Wendalls, I suppose. It is ten at night, Dr. B.'

'No. They broke up,' she said absentmindedly, fingers drumming a pattern on the sheets. 'Where was the crash?'

Booth was watching her warily. He knew that expression all too well. 'Corner of Fourth and Main.'

She frowned. 'What time did I leave the lab, Hodgins?'

'About 5, I think.' The bug and slime guy stood up, edging closer to the bed. 'They broke up?'

'I don't remember anything after that,' she mused, pulling herself painfully into sitting position, slapping away Booth's hands as he attempted to help her. 'Did anyone hear from me after that?'

Three heads shook. 'Why was I driving towards the city at...'

'Eight.'

'Eight.' She blinked and straightened, hissing in pain. 'I had dinner reservations. At Rouge. But...' she looked confused. 'I was planning on taking Booth. To surprise him.'

Booth grinned. 'You were?'

'Mmm,' she said absentmindedly. 'You took me out for dinner last year on our anniversary of our first case; I figured that this year was my turn. But you weren't with me.'

Hodgins snapped his fingers. 'You were going to Angela's! You said, right before you left the lab. I knew I shouldn't have let you drive,' he muttered.

Booth shot him a sharp glance. 'Has anyone tried to call Angela?'

Hodgins nodded, as did Sweets. 'No answer.'

Booth whipped out his phone and hit Angela's number. It rang out.

The next number he dialled was the head of the team that had examined the scene of the crash. 'It's Booth. Examine the footage again, from before the crash. Find out if there was someone else in the car with Dr. Brennan.' He snapped the phone shut again, turning to meet Brennan's wild eyes. 'Hey, Bones. Don't worry, I'm sure she's fine. She's probably passed out at home after drinking away her sorrows over Wendall.'

'No. She was happy. She realised that she's still in love with Hodgins. That's –.' Her eyes went wide. 'That's why I went over last night! She rang and said that she needed to talk, and I figured that she probably needed a night out, and Booth wouldn't mind since I hadn't told him...' Brennan trailed off, a horrified expression on her face. 'Booth, I'm pretty sure she was in that car.'

'Wait. Angela is still in love with me?'

They ignored him, Booth leaning close to Brennan. 'You were the only one in that car when the ambulance got there, Bones.'

Brennan pursed her lips, eyebrows drawn. 'Then where is Angela?'

X


End file.
